


I Do

by PyrophobicDragon



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyrophobicDragon/pseuds/PyrophobicDragon
Summary: A series of almost-oneshot stories centering around the royal wedding.





	1. Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> A (probably a bit ambitious) series about the planning, happenings, befores, durings, and afters of a royal wedding!
> 
> Rating is T for Thirsty Zacharias.

Zacharias glances to his side. Alfonse is still sitting perfectly upright, face serious, listening carefully to the stuttering, obviously-nervous Askrian wedding planner. He still looks as perfect and polished as he did two hours ago when this meeting started. Zacharias takes a moment to admire his fiance. Alfonse was superhuman if he could listen to this man drone on and on without even slouching.

 

Zacharias sits up just a little bit--not to change his posture, but to peek over Alfonse’s head to look at his parents. The King of Askr looked like he was nodding off, but the queen looked as attentive as her son did. He tries not to jump when Veronica pokes his thigh. He turns to look at his half sister, who shoots him a bored look. He gives her an apologetic one. She really shouldn’t be here, but since the king and queen of Askr were here, she needed to come along to make things appear more equal.

 

The Askrian wedding planner falls silent, and the Emblam one starts speaking. He sighs internally, shifting a tiniest bit in his chair. Sitting this close, he can practically brush against Alfonse’s thigh with his own, yet with both of Alfonse’s parents, two wedding planners, Veronica, and two guards--both of them were designated chaperones and were watching them like a pair of hawks--there was no opportunity for the skinship he so wanted.

 

Shaking himself a tiny bit to try and keep his mind off of _touching_ Alfonse, Zacharias shoots a longing look at the window, where a beautiful spring day awaited him. It taunted him almost as much as Alfonse’s nearness did. His mind spirals into daydreams of what he could do with the day. Perhaps Sharena was training outside, joined by Anna, Kiran, and her new friend, Fjorm. He could join them later, get used to using his lance again. Maybe he could ride with Alfonse to Embla, show him around the country that hadn’t felt like home in a very long while and try to make some good memories. Or perhaps he could even convince Alfonse to slip away from their chaperones and sneak down to the river, just like when they were boys and he was young and full of hope that the goodness of his mother outweighed the evil in his blood….

 

He’s torn rudely from his musings by another harsh jab from Veronica. He glances wildly at her, then at Alfonse, who only looks at him blankly, then at the wedding planners. Very eloquently, befitting his status as the crown prince of Embla, he stutters, “Uh...what?”

 

He hears a muffled snort from the King. He resists the urge to glare at him. He was his father-in-law, after all, not to mention the king of the neighboring kingdom. He gulps under the weight of everyone’s gazes. Feeling a bit like a slacking schoolchild, he asks, “Er...can you repeat the question?”

 

The two wedding planners give each other a Look, apparently united across previously-warring country lines by his stupidity. The Emblam planner says, patiently, “Prince Bruno, we were just speaking of the tableware. Askr is lacking a full set, but we do not want the table to look unbalanced. My partner here was asking if you would like to proceed with the incomplete set and remove some parts from the Emblam set to match, or if you’d like to suggest another option.”

 

Besides him, Alfonse’s set face cracks as he cringes. Zacharias forces down his smile, remembering the day when two children, chased by their friend, ended up crashing right into the servant who was heading to set the table for a state dinner. Between the four of them, they somehow managed to catch most plates, but about a third of the centuries-old handmade Askrian porcelain dishes were smashed beyond repair. The poor servant had started crying, certain that they would be imprisoned or even beheaded, but little thirteen-year-old Alfonse had lifted his chin up in the air and declared quite grandly that he would give the servant a royal pardon, and that he would take all the blame for the incident, as he was old enough to know that he shouldn’t be running like a hooligan inside the castle.

 

Distancing himself from the memory, Zacharias thinks for a moment. The Emblam set was also quite old and lovely, but the design was an ancient one that gave thanks to the dark god they vanquished out of the bloodline a few short months ago. Not very fitting for a wedding…

 

He squashes down the urge to go back to Embla and smash every single item in the set and looks at the planners instead. “The wedding isn’t for at least another year, yes? Perhaps we should have a new set commissioned. One to commemorate this union of our countries, and to praise a new era of peace.”

 

The wedding planners both nod at the same time. “That is a sound idea, Prince Bruno,” one says, sounding pleased. The other sighs, “Then we shall endeavor to find two pottery makers in Askr and Embla to design and build a set together. I suppose that is all for today. This preliminary discussion has gone well; thank you all for your time.”

 

Zacharias almost falls out of his chair, suddenly hit with the memory that this was only the _first_ of many meetings. He pulls himself together. “Before you leave, could you please provide me a list of what we accomplished today? For our review.”

 

He accepts a piece of paper from one of the wedding planners, ignoring Veronica’s pointed look. As the wedding planners pack up and leave, he checks the list: _Concept for wedding: unity, balance, equality; all aspects will be a balance between the two countries. Food: undecided. Colors: undecided. Flowers: undecided. Clothes: undecided. Master of ceremonies: undecided…_ The list went on and on, until the very last mark: _Table settings: commemorative plates to be commissioned; all other aspects (tablecloth, seating charts, napkins, etc.) to be determined._

 

It’s going to be a long road to the wedding.

 

He glances up from the paper. Everyone had left the room except for Alfonse and an uncomfortable looking guard. Alfonse is watching him with a small smile on his face, either amused at his absentmindedness or impressed by his suggestion. Zacharias wants to kiss that smile. He distracts himself by suggesting, “Why don’t we go find the others? I think we deserve a little freedom after that meeting.”

 

Alfonse nods, stretching as he stands up. As he rolls his shoulders, Zacharias smiles. “I still can’t believe you managed to keep listening with that posture for the entire two hours.”

 

Alfonse shrugs in return. “Remember how I used to sit in a stool for hours, balancing a book on my head?”

 

Zacharias chuckles. Alfonse had recruited Sharena and Zacharias to distract him, both as a means to pass the time and as a further test of his posture. What was even more impressive was that the exercise was not asked of him by his tutors; it was one Alfonse had cooked up all on his own after watching his mother sit as still as a statue throughout four hours of court.

 

“You were quite dedicated to your role.” As an afterthought, Zacharias adds, “You still are.”

 

Alfonse nods, looking down. “Not as much as I was when I was younger, admittedly. My time with the Order of Heroes taught me that there are many things a ruler must do to help his people.”

 

It was perhaps rude of him, but Zacharias honestly zones out of what Alfonse said, too distracted by the way his lips move. After two hours of torture, sitting next to Alfonse while he sits like a perfect statue and being unable to touch, Zacharias can finally stop resisting. He reaches up and brushes the back of his hand against Alfonse’s cheek, watching as a peach blush marrs his porcelain cheek. Alfonse’s face was soft and smooth; he’s delicate in the way all Askrians are, in a way that both belies and strangely fits his roles as a king and a warrior. Alfonse was only human; surely he must have flaws, but in this moment, as he cups his cheek in his hand, Zacharias can see none. Back when the blood still spoke to him, he had often thought about how Alfonse looks as breakable as those ancient plates, so easily shattered. Nowadays, he has those same thoughts, but for a different reason.

 

 _After the wedding,_ he thinks, _I will ruin you._

 

He stays silent for a moment, letting the spike of lust fade away, then says quietly, “You will make a great king.” And he slowly leans in, aiming for his cheek. If he tried to go for Alfonse’s lips in his current mood, things could escalate quite quickly, chaperone be damned.

 

But his lips only connected with cold metal. He and Alfonse yelp in tandem, both jumping back as if burnt. In between them is an axehead. Connected to the axehead was a handle. And holding the handle was Commander Anna, who frowns at them disapprovingly. Behind her, Sharena rolls her eyes, leaning over to whisper something to Fjorm, and Kiran is covering Veronica’s and Feh’s eyes with their hands.

 

“Anna!” Alfonse cries, blushing a rather fetching shade of crimson. Anna sets her axe on her shoulder.

 

“Save it ‘til marriage, you two.”

 

Zacharias blinks, then protests, “It’s not against the rules. Look, we had a chaperone here and everything!”

 

Anna says sternly, in a way that brokers no pause, “It’s against MY rules. C’mon, you two, keep your tongues on the insides of your own cheeks and let’s go outside. It’s a beautiful day!”

 

Anna gives a strange signal. Immediately, her assembled troops leap forward. Fjorm and Kiran grab Alfonse’s arms, and Sharena and Veronica grab Zacharias’, and Feh flutters above, cooing. “Forward...march!” Anna commands, and they all march out the door towards the sunshine. Manhandled against their wills, Alfonse and Zacharias meet each other’s eyes.

 

_It’s going to be a long year..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite proud of this chapter. Possibly my favorite piece I've ever written, or at least a close second.


	2. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cake tasting and a shovel talk.

Sharena barrels down the hallway, screeching to a stop in front of her brother’s door. She knocks, but when he doesn’t respond immediately, she throws open the door and runs in, kicking off her slippers. Alfonse’s head is already raised, staring in horror as she charges straight at him. He only has time to yelp as she gives her best battlecry (learned from the hero Mia) and jumps, landing on his bed with pinpoint accuracy.

 

He groans, crushed under her weight, and she grins. “Guess what we’re having for breakfast!”

 

Alfonse blinks the sleep from his eyes, shifting around under the covers. He was having a good dream...He thinks about what she would be so excited about having for breakfast. “...Steak?”

 

“Nope, guess again!” She says, sitting upright so he could breathe better.

 

“Uh...corncakes?” Those were his favorite.

 

“No, but you’re getting warmer!” She grins and gives him the answer. “Cake! We’re eating cake for breakfast!”

 

“That doesn’t seem healthy…” He then scratches his head, yawning. “Why?”

 

Sharena gets off the bed, reaching out to help pull him up. “Cook baked some. He said that he wanted to make sure you had the grandest cake in the history of cakes for your wedding, and apparently his plans can change depending on what the cake is flavored, so he insisted to the planners that we have an early appointment for cake-tasting.”

 

“Early appointment--Sharena, does he realize that I only got engaged last month?” Alfonse asks, exasperated. She shrugs, handing him his dressing gown, but he frowns and shakes his head, heading towards the closet. Ah, right--Zacharias would be down there are well. Though she privately thinks that Zacharias would still love Al if he was wearing a sackcloth, she knows Alfonse wants to look good for his  _ boy-friend. _

 

Can she make fun of Zacharias for being Alfonse’s  _ boy-friend _ if they were engaged? Hm. She’ll consult with Veronica and Fjorm. She answers Alfonse’s question with a dry, “Yes, I’m sure he does, the country was up in arms about it.”

 

It was quite an occasion, actually. Some loud people complained of marrying an Emblam. Some others had complained of marrying a man, but all the complainers were soon drowned out by the cheers of the general populace, who were happy that there would be a royal wedding.

 

The people in the palace cheered the loudest. They had seen Alfonse-and-Zacharias, then the sad days when Alfonse had refused to come out of his room and cried and cried, and then the days when Alfonse had finally emerged, stony-faced and hard-set. They had coaxed Alfonse with small nibbles and treats on the days when he would not eat out of sorrow and stubbornness, had tiptoed around him when it was revealed that Zacharias was  _ back _ but he couldn’t come home yet, and had seen him sink into hopeless despair once more when it seemed as though the curse would never be broken. And they were rewarded for their worry by his jubilation when the dark god was defeated, the war was over, and Zacharias could stop being Prince Bruno and could go back to being Zach.

 

She addresses the shut closet door as she continues, “He’s just really happy for you. Everyone’s happy for you. We’re all just a little bit--overexcited.”

 

Alfonse comes out of the closet. He heads over to the mirror, checking his reflection again even though there was a perfectly functioning mirror inside the closet and he must have checked his outfit ten times already. He admits, running his finger through his hair, “It hasn’t really sunk in yet. It’s still nerve-wracking and unbelievable, and there’s so many ways it can go wrong before the wedding.”

 

Sharena frowns at his comment and packages it away for later. She would have to coax him to speak more about his feelings later, but for now they were expected at breakfast soon. She firmly grasps his shoulders and steers him away from the mirror. “That’s not for you to worry about, Al. There’s a reason why we have planners and Mum and Dad. Your job is to just be happy and do what we tell you. And right now, I’m telling you--let’s go eat cake!”

 

Downstairs, in the dining room, the long table is set up with a runner down the middle, with several small cakes and bowls with frostings set on the runner. A servant stood aside with a tray of tiny plates and equally tiny spoons. Several more stood by, holding yet more cake and frosting. At the table sat their family--Mum and Dad, Anna, Kiran, Fjorm, and a very tired and confused looking Zacharias (which honestly seemed to be his default state ever since the wedding planning started). He brightens up when he sees the siblings, though.

 

“Veronica had to go back to Embla. But the chef sent her off with cake samples and a list, and she’ll send us her opinions later,” he tells them.

 

Speaking of the chef, a very jittery-looking Cook stood in front of the table, exhausted eyes darting to and fro. Alfonse glances at the cake, glances at the clock, glances Cook, and asks, horrified, “Have you slept at all, Cook? How are you still standing?”

 

Cook turns and bows at him. “I drank several jars of tea concentrate. I baked ten flavors of cake, prepared two decorative frostings and two taste frostings, and whipped cream three different ways to have three different textures. All five come in four flavors.  _ I can feel my eyeballs pulsing _ . Please, sit down and have a taste, Prince and Princess.”

 

Alfonse and Sharena both frown. Cook tends to be a bit overzealous, and it appears that the excitement of the upcoming wedding has gotten to him. Alfonse turns to a guard. “Can we get a medic in here? Please ask them to check on Cook while we try his cakes.”

 

The guard nods, eyeing Cook warily, and scurries off. Alfonse and Sharena take their seats next to Zacharias, who leans over and whispers, “Is he going to die?”

 

Sharena chuckles, picking up her fork. She whaps Alfonse’s hand when she spies it sneaking off to touch Zacharias, making it retreat. He glares at her, then tells Zacharias, “Probably not. Cook always does this. He gets way too excited about making food, stays up for forty-eight hours cooking, and crashes.”

 

Zacharias nods, glancing over at Cook once more, and picks up his own fork. Dad had succumbed, leaning forward and eagerly scooping up a bite, so everyone took that as their cue to go for the cake.

 

As they eat, Sharena keeps a close eye on Zach and Al. Zacharias keeps staring at Alfonse, which distracts her brother and makes him blush. She rolls her eyes at them. They were sickening. She was happy, of course, but it’s sibling duty that she make fun of them. She had another sibling duty to execute later as well….

 

A cool wind whips by, and Fjorm sits next to her, followed quickly by Anna and Kiran, who sit across from them. “We decided to move so we can talk easier,” Fjorm says quietly, and Sharena wills away her blush. She scoots closer to Fjorm, who either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind, since she doesn’t move away.

 

Her attention is stolen off her pretty friend by motion. Next to her, Zacharias leans forward and swipes a bit of frosting off the corner of Alfonse’s mouth. Her brother blushes faintly, which turns to a shocking shade of red as Zacharias absently licks the frosting off his thumb. Zacharias freezes halfway through, as if suddenly realizing the implications of what he was doing.

 

Across the table, Anna reaches for her axe. “Hands above the table and to yourselves,” she orders. Both of sets hands suddenly appear, and Anna’s hand drops down from her weapon. Sharena stifles a giggle, and elbows Alfonse. “You two are disgusting,” she says fondly.

 

Somehow they manage to get even redder. “Repulsive,” Anna mumbles as well. Fjorm chuckles, and Kiran smiles, pulling up their sleeves so they can sign,  _ “Downright revolting. How dare you two be in love.” _

 

Alfonse rolls his eyes, moving to push back his chair. “I don’t need to listen to this negativity,” he huffs, but he doesn’t actually go anywhere. Next to him, Zacharias was hiding his face, trying to cover up his blush, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

 

They go back to eating their breakfast, conversation dwindling to simple comments about the cakes and frosting. Across the great hall, the doctor had arrived, and was now peering into Cook’s eyes, frowning and tutting to herself. Down the table, Mum and Dad were feeding each other cake, in a heated discussion about the economy and how to integrate trade with Embla. Zach was touching--more like  _ groping _ \--Alfonse’s thigh, and Alfonse was pretending not to notice, still beet-red. By her side, Fjorm was cool to the touch, and Anna and Kiran were trying to coax Feh over with crumbs of cake. 

 

Now would be a good time to, er…”speak” with Zacharias. Sharena leans foward, looking around Alfonse to address Zach. “Hey, Zach!”

 

He looks up, snatching his hand away from Alfonse’s thigh. “Yes?” He asks, trying to look innocent.

 

She elects to ignore that for now. “You know what goes well with cake? Milk! Come with me and let’s go get some!”

 

Zacharias nods, unsuspecting. Alfonse, however, narrows his eyes. He knows her too well, but she just needs to hurry Zacharias out of the room before Alfonse can conduct a proper dissuasion. So she reaches around him and grabs Zach’s arm with the hand not holding her fork and pulls him out of his chair and towards the kitchen. She stops him just behind the kitchen door, turning to address him. She grins at him brightly. “Just wanted to let you know that if you ever make Al cry again, they will never find your body.” And to punctuate her point, she stabs her fork so hard into the door that it sinks into the wood a centimeter, quivering.

 

Zacharias has gone an alarming shade of pale. 

 

She waits to hear his response. Much to her surprise, he doesn’t try to defend himself, zeroing into one thing only: “‘Again?’”

 

“What do you mean--” she starts, then stops, thinking. Of course Alfonse wouldn’t want to talk about the days when Zacharias left. Her eyes widen, feeling sympathetic. Zacharias didn’t know how much he hurt Alfonse. And she felt kinda bad that she would have to be the bearer of bad news. She starts again, this time quieter, trying to ease the blow of her next words. “When you left--at first he was confused. Then he was upset. Then he was terribly, horribly sad--he cried for days. He wouldn’t eat, he barely moved, he just lay in bed and cried his eyes out.”

 

Zach’s mouth was hanging open at this point. His eyes were strangely bright. She continues. “When he finally pulled himself together enough to come out, he was--he was dead. All his happiness had gone, and there was nothing but a shell filled with single-minded duty. I had lost you, and--” her voice cracks a little, and she swallows back tears. “I had lost Al, too. He came back, bits and pieces of him, but he was still obviously missing a part of him. Even now, he’s still not quite used to being not-numb.”

 

Zacharias looks away. Sharena swipes at her eyes quickly, then drops her hand as he says slowly, “I...I do not regret leaving you. If I had stayed, I would have killed him. But..” he looks her in the eyes, and continues, “I do regret not telling you the truth. I thought I was sparing myself the pain of your rejection, but now I see it only pained you moe. I’m sorry.”

 

Sharena smiles and nods, dabbing at her eyes again. “I forgive you. I forgave you the moment we figured out what was up. I’m just...I’m so glad you’re back.”

 

He steps closer, and she leans forward, letting him hug her. They stand there quietly for a moment, then he says, seriously, “If I ever make him cry again, I’ll hand you your lance myself.”

 

She giggles, and pats his back, pulling away. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

 

After a pause, she adds, “Though I am willing to give you one chance. You need to talk to him about his feelings--he’s gotten very good at repressing, but I’m sure you can coax him to talking to you.” She leans back and looks at Zacharias, who looks sick again. “He’ll cry during the conversation, probably. But since it’s healthy for him, you’ll get a pass.”

 

Zacharias’ arms tighten around her. “Thank you for your benevolence, princess.”

 

That’s not what he wanted to say. But she only smiles and nods. “Thank you for coming back.”


	3. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussing flower arrangements brings about a golden opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T because Zacharias would very much like to "pollinate."

The gardens were in full bloom outside the window, on this sunny day on the cusp of spring and summer. Across the table, the two wedding planners--he had finally learned their names; they were Jasper of Askr and Susanne of Embla--were comparing notes on the meaning of various flowers and floral arrangements. To his left, Veronica was on the verge of nodding off, and Zacharias sighs. He wants to be outside, not in these stupid meetings. 

 

He eyes the pictures on the table,and gets struck by an idea. He sits up straighter, trying to look like he wasn’t just nodding off, and suggests, “Why don’t we go visit the gardens and the hothouses? View these flowers in person, as to better imagine the arrangements.”

 

The planners exchange a look, and nod, bowing. “A sound idea, Prince Bruno,” Jasper says. Alfonse gives him an admiring look, which makes Zacharias preen. 

 

Together, the whole party--two planners, Veronica, the King and Queen, and Alfonse and himself--troop outside towards the gardens. Zacharias drops to the back, letting the planners lead the way as they talk about flowers.

 

In his opinion, flowers were pretty, but they’ve been talking themselves hoarse for the last hour. He’s through. 

 

He glances about, noting with surprise that no guards accompanied them, preferring to fan outside the perimeter of the garden. Veronica was busy pulling thorns off of roses, the King and Queen were following the planners…

 

He reaches out and grabs Alfonse’s elbow. Alfonse comes willingly when he gives a tug, and together they turn and slip away, as quietly as they could, in the opposite direction.

 

They run away silently, then Alfonse tugs on his hand, pulling him a different direction. Zacharias bites back his laughter, not wanting to alert the other parties to their absence sooner than necessary, and follows Alfonse as he leads the way through the giant garden, taking half-remembered paths from old games of hide and seek. Eventually, they crash through a hedge and stop on the other side, to the very center of the garden. It was difficult to make it here unless one follows the long, winding path, or takes a very undignified shortcut. Leaves in his hair, disheveled, Alfonse turns, a wide grin on his face. “We did it!”

 

Zacharias lets himself laugh, trying to stay relatively quiet. “Yes, we did. We have made our escape from the perilous clutches of wedding planners and chaperones.”

 

He lets that sink in for a moment. This was the first time they had been truly alone in a long while--even before the engagement. They had just been so busy… He savors the time allotted to admire Alfonse’s features. He’ll never tire of his beauty.

 

Alfonse steps closer, wrapping his arms around Zacharias’ waist and resting his chin on his chest, forcing Zacharias to look down to meet his eyes. “So...Prince of Embla, you have me alone at long last,” he says cheekily, a twinkle in his eye.

 

“All according to my nefarious plan,” Zacharias responds. His own hands drift to touch Alfonse--one resting on his hip, and one reaching up to cup his cheek. “What shall I do with you, then?”

 

“Anything you want,” is Alfonse’s dreamy answer. Zacharias laughs, making Alfonse smile at the rumble he can feel where they’re pressed close together.

 

“Anything I want? A dangerous proposition, my prince.” He leans closer to nose along Alfonse’s cheek. The height difference makes the posture uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. “Are you fully aware of what you’re offering to me?”

 

This close, he can feel the heat rising from Alfonse’s cheek as he blushes. His prince was quite bashful. He looks forward to all the circumstances he can see that blush in. But Alfonse doesn’t hide his face as he answers, quite boldly, “I know what I want you to do.”

 

Zacharias hums quizzically. Alfonse continues, “I’d like you to kiss me.”

 

“Gladly.” Zacharias tilts his head and gently presses their lips together. Alfonse’s arms tighten around him, lips going slack, and Zacharias presses closer, closing his eyes, savoring how warm he is, how close he can be without someone yelling at them to stay apart. Alfonse lets out a small moan that tugs at his heartstrings.

 

Gods above, this whole wedding nonsense was awful and amazing at the same time. He wasn’t allowed to kiss his fiance, there were too many decisions to make, too many meetings in dark rooms…

 

Then again, maybe the whole no-kissing thing was a good idea. If he could hold Alfonse like this every day, he would surely succumb to lust one day. In fact, it was already happening now. He pulls out of the kiss, ignoring the way Alfonse whines the tiniest bit. He smiles at Alfonse’s glazed-over look and kiss-swollen lips. He allows himself one more peck at his cheek and then says softly, “If we were of humbler kin, I would have brought you down to the grass and taken you right here.” Alfonse flushes at what he was saying, and Zacharias smiles, pressing his forefingers to his lips to prevent him from speaking. “As we are, I would not dishonor you or your family by doing so. As much as I may curse it, I will wait.”

 

Alfonse nods, eyes dipping down as he runs a hand along Zacharias’ chest. It appear unintentional--or at least, Zacharias hopes it is, and Alfonse is not teasing him with promises they must keep for another year. Alfonse speaks quietly. “Anna told me something, just after the announcement of our engagement. She said that our marriage is not our own, and that no matter how much I love you, I must remember that.”

 

His words nearly stagger Zacharias. His oh-so-simple admission of love makes him smile as bright as the sun. He leans forward, unable to control himself, and kisses his forehead. He wants to pepper Alfonse’s face with kisses, but that one will have to do for now. “Commander Anna is wise, despite her occasional folly. But,” he adds, “Right here, this moment is ours. Let’s enjoy our privacy while we can.”

 

He draws back, but keeps an arm wrapped around Alfonse’s hip. He does a mock bow. “Prince Alfonse, would you be so kind as to accompany me on a tour of the gardens?”

 

Alfonse chuckles, and bows back. “It would please me greatly, Prince Zacharias. Lead the way.”

 

Despite his words, however, Alfonse is the one who guides him. The garden had changed since the last time Zacharias was here, and Alfonse delights in showing him the changes and the similarities where the garden matches their childhood memories. In front of a bush of jasmine, Zacharias leans forward, plucking a fragrant branch and placing it in Alfonse’s hair. From there it becomes a challenge--they meander about the garden, picking symbolism-filled blooms and tucking them on each other. Flowers appear in their hair, in their crowns, in straps and belts and buttonholes.

 

The idyllic peace is broken by a shout. “Alfonse! Bruno!”

 

They both stop and look at each other. That was Veronica’s shout, and she was considerably close by. They would be discovered if they did not--

 

“Run!” Zacharias whispers.

 

And they do. Grasping each other’s hands, they crash through the bushes, running in the opposite direction of Veronica’s voice. As they dart through the garden they zip past a guard, who gasps. “Commander Anna! I found them!” His voice fades away behind him as Zacharias swears vigorously and Alfonse laughs, almost doubling over from the effort of fleeing and laughing. Zacharias tugs him along, turning right and running through another bush--

 

And he swears loudly as he trips over the stone edge of a decorative pond. Alfonse’s momentum crashes straight into him. He twists, doing his best not to fall in, but yelps when his efforts prove to be for naught and they tip in anyway. They land straight in the pond with a splash, Alfonse in his lap, surrounded by flowers and petals and stems. 

 

Despite--perhaps because of--the ignoble end to their attempted escape, Alfonse keeps laughing and laughing and laughing. His amusement bleeds into Zacharias, who huffs out a laugh as well, then they both lean in at the same time to meet each other’s lips.

 

Which is how they are found--soaking wet, still sitting in the pond, covered in flowers and leaves, holding onto each other like drowning men and kissing like they are trying to find dry land in each other’s mouths. Veronica steps into the clearing, rolling her eyes. She picks up a rock and tosses it halfheartedly. It lands in the pond. “Get out of there, you two. You’re embarrassing everyone.”

 

They draw themselves away from each other. Alfonse smiles sheepishly at Zacharias, then glances over his shoulder. He immediately turns back around and hides his face in the crook of Zacharias’ neck. His mother and father were there. Anna was there. Veronica, the planners, and a small army of guards were there.

 

Zacharias only gives them all a cheeky wave, reaching up with his other hand to gently stroke the back of Alfonse’s head. He shifts around, then scoops up Alfonse in one smooth motion, making him yelp as he stands up and carries him out of the pond. He stops in front of the Queen and King--the queen is facepalming, the King is unsuccessfully hiding a grin--and says proudly, “I saved Prince Alfonse from drowning, your Majesties.”

 

“I supposed you resuscitated him too,” The Queen sighs. “Thank you for your service to the Crown. In return we will offer you the Prince’s hand in marriage.” The utter boredom in her voice makes the King snicker. He gestures behind them. 

 

“You might want to start running again, Bruno. Here comes Anna.”

 

Zacharias whirls around. Anna storms over, axe in her hands. She points it at him. “Put Prince Alfonse down and stop molesting him.”

 

He pouts, but obeys, gently dropping Alfonse’s legs so he can stand before letting him go entirely. Jasper and Susanne walk over as well, both looking mildly annoyed. “How about we go back inside, after your little...excursion?”

 

The Queen nods, then sighs. “Go wash up, you two. Anna, please accompany them--make sure they don’t get up to any more...funny business.”

 

“Gladly, your Majesty.” Anna’s ruby-eyed glare bores right into his skull. She steps in between them, grabbing both of their arms, and starts walking towards the castle. Zacharias mutinously mutters,

 

“Nothing happened.”

 

“Nothing indeed,” she huffs in a way that makes it clear that she doesn't believe him at all.

 

Over her head, Alfonse glances up at him. Hair dripping, face red, he shoots Zacharias a beautiful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, I wanted to do more with the flower language side of things, but I felt bad for their trials, so they get this.
> 
> Might go back and polish up more later, or maybe write a part two...but no promises.


	4. Wedding Clothes, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to choose an outfit for the wedding! Part one: Alfonse's.

Zacharias wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He barely got any sleep last night, but they had an appointment with the tailor early in the morning. According to Susanne, the tailoring sessions could last for veritable hours. She suggested that he bring along something to distract himself. 

 

He hauls himself out of bed, grabbing his notebook, a pencil, and a thick book on birds. Drawing was a surefire way to pass the time, and the bird book would give him plenty of subjects to work with.

 

He washes up and gets dressed, checking his reflection once then heading out the door. Outside, Susanne was waiting for him. She nods approvingly when she sees he’s awake, then wordlessly leads him down the corridor. 

 

Inside the room, a small army of tailors bustle about, setting up mirrors, pulling out clothing from chests. Susanne directs Zacharias to sit in a chair set against the wall, and settles down, shutting his eyes to take a quick nap before the others arrive.

 

The next person to sweep in is Alfonse, followed by Sharena. Zacharias beams, jumping up from his chair to greet his fiance. He halts just in front of him, glancing at Sharena, who suddenly pretends to be looking away. Zacharias chuckles, and moves closer, wrapping Alfonse in a quick hug. Alfonse mumbles, still sounding a bit sleepy, “Hm...good morning.”

 

“Good morning to you too,” Zacharias whispers, pressing a kiss to his temple. They part again, and go to sit down.

 

After he sits down, Alfonse yawns, kittenish, and asks, “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Well enough,” Zacharias lies. “And yourself?”

 

Alfonse’s response is a cute pout. Zacharias rather likes this early-morning Alfonse, when he’s too sleepy and relaxed to put on the perfect-prince posture he always has. This is the Alfonse he remembers--a serious air, yes, but he can be just as sassy and playful as his younger sister.

 

Alfonse mumbles, “It’s far too hot this summer.”

 

Zacharias chuckles. “Embla is far warmer than here. I forget what a delicate flowers you Askrian are when it comes to heat.”

 

Sharena and Alfonse give him matching scowls. He merely laughs again--the novelty of their synchronization wore off long ago. “Yeah, well we’ll see who’s the delicate flower when winter rolls around,” Sharena mutters.

 

Zacharias smirks at her. “I lived here for several years, remember?”

 

“Oh yeah….”

 

The Queen sweeps into the room, cutting off their conversation, followed by Anna and a sleepy-looking King. The King mutters, “Whose idea was it to hold this meeting at this hour? I’ll have their heads for treason…”

 

“Whatever you say, dear,” the Queen replies absently. She gives the three already sitting a sweet smile. “Slept well, you three? Breakfast is coming soon. I believe we are deciding on Alfonse’s clothing first--the Emblian tailor isn’t going to arrive until later.”

 

Alfonse groans. “In the year 178, Queen Brynhild married Prince Consort Ramond wearing her armor.”

 

The King gives him an admiring look, while the Queen rolls her eyes. “Queen Brynhild wasn’t marrying the Crown Prince of Embla in a di-nationwide spectacle.”

 

The old tailor steps out from behind a folding screen. Peering over his spectacles, he gestures at Alfonse. “Get over here, Prince. You can’t dodge this one.”

 

Alfonse stands unwillingly and follows him behind the screen.

 

Zacharias leans back in his chair. Two servants come in bearing trays of breakfast foods. He nudges Sharena and gets a plate of ham and eggs for his trouble. As he eats, his eyes wander around the room as one of the tailor’s apprentices crosses the room, carrying a wooden tray holding several shoes. 

 

His attention is soon arrested by them. The shoes are not like Alfonse’s usual armored boots that he’s used to seeing him wear. They’re small. Low-cut, in sort of a slipper-ish style. The heel is far higher in these than they are on the combat boots, befitting the traditional Askrian style that assists with their general lack of stature. 

 

But gods above and below, they’re so  _ small. _ He could hold both of them in one hand easily.

 

He knew, intellectually, that Alfonse was a small person. All Askrians are, compared to Emblians, and even before he fled Askr Alfonse was always consistently a bit shorter than him. But somehow, seeing those little shoes with their tall heel to compensate for the lack of height, the reality hits him like a ton of bricks.

 

He feels almost lightheaded from the revelation. 

 

Across the room, Alfonse emerges from behind the curtain. He’s wearing some fancy white outfit, but that doesn’t register. All that he notices is that  _ Alfonse isn’t wearing any shoes. _

 

Before he can stop himself, he’s standing up and striding across the room. Alfonse’s delicate features easily spell out confusion as he approaches. He stops just within touching range, not wanting to give Anna a reason to pull out her axe, and looks down. A long way down.

 

He had grown, he realizes. Or perhaps Alfonse had shrunk. Or perhaps this is just the first time in a very long while that he’s seen Alfonse without high heels. 

 

Alfonse is  _ tiny _ . Barely coming up to his shoulders. He’s beautiful and elfin, with a delicate little nose and a soft, round face and hair that never sits quite right and Zacharias just wants to pick him up and squirrel him away and protect him and dismantle him.

 

Behind him, Anna is growling, but he rather suspects someone’s holding her back--probably physically. He sends whoever it is a quick mental thanks, turning attention back to Alfonse. Alfonse looks up at him. “Zacharias...are you okay?”

 

Zacharias shakes his head, then catches himself. “I...am fine. You are just….”

 

Alfonse just looks even more confused. “Uh, do I look okay?”

 

“You look wonderful,” is all he can say.

 

Alfonse’s face turns into one of acceptance. He smiles, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Oh...well then. Go sit back down.”

 

He bounces up, standing on tip-toe to press a kiss to Zacharias’ jaw, emboldened by the fact that Zacharias’ bulk blocks him from view. He then gently pushes at his chest. Zacharias goes, blushing, to sit back down.

 

Back at his seat, Sharena pats his back sympathetically. His fingers itch to draw--but not birds. No, he wants to sketch the curve of Alfonse’s face, the upturn of his nose, his soft warm eyes.

 

He has his sketchbook with him, so he indulges himself. He draws mostly from memory as Alfonse darts in and out from behind the screen, modeling clothes and grumbling adorably all the while. The other make occasional comments about one thing or the other, but he tunes them out. Alfonse looks wonderful in anything.

 

But out of the corner of his eye...he can see Alfonse coming out in outfit after outfit. And slowly he starts sketching out the best parts--a mid-height standing collar here, loose sleeves there, a dusting of the white feathers Askrians like on the shoulders, copying the way his tunic sits but tightening it a little bit to make his delicacy stand out….

 

By the time Alfonse comes out in his normal clothes, scowling and flat-out refusing to put on another outfit, two pages of his book are covered in sketches--one full of small bits and pieces, and the other a full-body portrait of his design. Alfonse approaches the bench, speaking to Jasper about the outfits--”I like the comfortable ones. White and gold, I think, and blue...it’s traditional to wear blue, right?”--and then he turns to address Zacharias. His mouth opens slightly when he sees the sketchbook.

 

Sharena leans over too, peeking to see what threw her brother off-kilter so. She grins brightly. “Show it to the tailor! Baba, come look at this!”

 

Zacharias looks at her in horror, then at Alfonse to save him. Alfonse only shrugs--the others are starting to peek as well, all cooing about how good it looks, how he should show the tailor. Said tailor hobbles over at the commotion. He takes the sketchbook in his grizzled hands and starts examining the picture with a critical eye. He hums. “You should become a tailor. You have better eye than half my apprentices.” 

 

“Aw, Baba…” the apprentices chorus in unison.

 

Baba just rolls his eyes, and just gestures them all over to put away all the rejected clothes. He starts hobbling away, then pauses. “Is it alright if I take this, Prince?” he asks.

 

“As long as I get it back in good condition,” Zacharias’ mouth says without any input from his brain. The Queen smiles a little, obviously amused, and mutters something that sounds like “adorable.” The King pats her hand. Zacharias sighs, and chooses to ignore them. He carefully rips out the page and hands it to Baba, who handles it as delicately as a bird. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to it,” he promises.

 

Something is niggling the back of Zacharias’ head. He frowns. “Susanne, isn’t it against tradition in Embla for the spouses to see each other’s full outfits before the wedding day?”

 

Jasper perks up in his corner, obviously excited to learn about another custom from Embla. Susanne nods, and moves over to inspect the picture. “It should be okay--this sketch has Prince Alfonse wearing his battle crown, and we’ll get wedding crowns made. It’s still technically not the full outfit.”

 

Zacharias nods, the logic sound. Alfonse groans at the knowledge that he’ll get yet another crown made--Zacharias chuckles, knowing how much Alfonse hated heavy crowns. His light battle crown was his favorite. Jasper was asking questions about this newly-learned tradition-- “So even if one is missing, say, a button, it would still not count?” “Yes, which makes for some clever loopholes” --and Baba the tailor was carefully packing the picture away in his file folder, handling it like gold leaf.

 

Zacharias turns as Alfonse speaks with a smile. “Let’s go outside. We have no more to do for the rest of the day.”

 

“Really?” Zacharias doesn’t mean to sound as relieved as he does, but it makes Alfonse giggle. 

 

“Yes! Let’s go!” 

 

Zacharias smiles and follows him out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent so long trying out different things for this. Finally got it to a place I wanted, so yay!


	5. Wedding Clothes, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zacharias' turn.

Another unholy hour, another tailoring session. This time, it was Zacharias’ turn.

 

Again, they all get seated in wooden chairs near the wall, with the tailors setting up in the room. Today, both tailors were present, arguing back and forth about cloth and texture and prices. 

 

Alfonse munches on a piece of bread, smeared liberally with jam and butter. His feet are tucked up underneath him, bare, with his shoes on the ground tucked neatly underneath his chair. He grins a little when he remembers Zacharias’ visceral reaction to his shoes the last time they were in this room. Next to him, Sharena yawns and leans over, resting her head on Alfonse’s shoulder. Next to  _ her _ , Veronica was helping herself to smoked rashers for breakfast, kicking her feet about in boredom. She was here to give input about the traditional Emblian clothing, but honestly, she probably knows less than Sharena does.

 

They were running a little late--Zacharias, the man of the hour, hasn’t shown up yet. Alfonse would be going after him, but a servant had already been sent to fetch him.

 

Just then, Zacharias rushes into the room, already apologizing. “Excuse my lateness, I slept in a little bit today--” He looks tired, Alfonse notes with a frown. He files it away to bring it up later, next to  _ Speak to Zacharias about your feelings _ and  _ Ask mother if it is possible to arrest Anna for treason for taking her chaperone duty too seriously. _

 

He’s not angry about that, not at all. He can survive ten more months.

 

Zacharias is grabbed by the two tailors and shoved behind the divider bodily. Alfonse giggles a little at the sight, then turns his attention back to breakfast. A few minutes later, he looks up when Zacharias steps out behind the curtain, wearing a severe black-and-white outfit. Involuntarily, he shivers. It was far too strong for a wedding. It reminded...it kind of reminded him of staring down an imposing figure in black and white on a black horse, riding towards him full tilt, laughing cruelly like a maniac as he promises to destroy him with the voice of his friend--

 

He shakes his head to eject the memories. When he speaks, his voice is shaking. “Not that color combination,” he says firmly.

 

Everyone looks at him, puzzled. The tailors were frowning. He can already hear their protests about “tradition” and “dichotomy.” He stands resolute. “I don’t like it.”

 

He tries not to voice any of his reasons, but Zacharias’ face drops in understanding. Without even stepping behind the curtain, he whips the shirt over his head and drops it aside.

 

His eyes go wide, taking in what he sees. Zacharias is--his chest is--

 

He thinks his jaw is hanging open. Distantly, he can hear Anna wolf-whistling, and he rather suspects that Zacharias is blushing in response to that, but he can’t tear his eyes off his husband-to-be’s suddenly bare body, let alone  _ think. _

 

Zacharias is pure muscle. It seems incongruous for someone who had been practicing magic for the last few years, but he supposes it must be Emblain genetics. He realizes he hasn’t seen Zacharias sans shirt for--since they were  _ children, _ surely, or else perhaps his dreams would have been haunted by something other than Zacharias’ smile.

 

He’s pretty sure Sharena’s giggling is directed at him, but he honestly cannot bring himself to care. All that he cares about is in front of him, a beautiful bronze, a bit shiny with sweat from the summertime heat, utterly masculine. His eyes wander from Zacharias’ abs to his chest to his arms, corded with fatless muscle  _ how is that possible gods above have mercy-- _

 

The world slowly starts filtering in again after a few skipped heartbeats. “I’m pretty sure Alfonse just had a sexual awakening,” he hears Sharena whisper to Anna.

 

Next to Sharena, Veronica is covering her eyes. “Cover up, Bruno, no one wants to see that.”

 

“Except for Alfonse!” Sharena collapses into a giggling fit again.

 

Mother is covering her eyes as well, plus her other hand is covering up Father’s, who’s complaining, “I have no eyes but for you, dear. I don’t need protection from my son’s saucy fiance.”

 

Amid the commotion, Alfonse finally tears his gaze away (reluctantly) and meets Zacharias’ eyes, who is both grinning and blushing at the same time. “I assure you all, I had nothing but pure intentions at first,” he attempts to protest, holding up a hand. But his grin turns sly as he addresses Alfonse directly. “But it is hard to remember them when you’re looking at me like that, my love.”

 

Alfonse looks away, pressing his cool hands to his reddened face in an attempt to cool down his cheeks. “I--j-just go put on the next outfit,” he stutters.

 

“If you insist,” Zacharias says noncommittally, and ducks behind the curtain again. Alfonse starts fanning himself, doing his best to ignore his friends’ snickering. It’s probably too late to try and blame his flush on the heat, he’s already embarrassed himself in front of everyone.

 

The next shirt is in purple and gold. He looks a lot better, in Alfonse’s opinion. It still looks very--Emblian, but it also looks downright nice. He makes sure to pay attention to the rest of the meeting, offering his opinion on the various articles of clothing. Zacharias tries on the pants, too, although he unfortunately does not try to whip them off like he did with the top.

 

Alfonse shakes his head at that thought. He supposes that it’s good that he finds his fiance’s body attractive, but he ought not to think of that when he’s sitting between his little sister, his parents, and his fiance’s little sister. And not to mention Anna, who would probably chop off his head if she could read minds, prince or not.

 

Zacharias’ clothing session goes much faster, since they were not constantly being interrupted by his grumbling. Baba, despite his seniority in the Askrian tailoring scene, is content to stand back and let the Emblain tailor take the helm, trusting the actual Emblain to be able to choose what aspects were appropriate for Zacharias.

 

Soon the tailors send Zacharias off, already putting their heads together and planning tweaks and resizings for the next time. The party is dismissed, but as they file out the door, Zacharias takes Alfonse’s elbow. He leans in close, intent on having a private conversation even with Anna watching them closely.

 

“Alfonse...are you scared of me?”

 

Alfonse almost pauses. Decades of training is the only thing that kept his legs moving and his stride even. But he speaks firmly when he says, “No, I can promise you I’m not.”

 

“Then why…” Zacharias seemed confused. Alfonse takes a moment to school his thoughts before he starts speaking.

 

“That outfit...it looked similar to the outfit you wore in the guise of Prince Bruno,” Alfonse starts. Zacharias nods, following along so far, but still not seeing how that translates to Alfonse’s lack of fear. “I will admit that it brings up...bad memories.”

 

Zacharias nods again. He looks a bit stricken. Alfonse longs to hug him, to comfort him physically, but they’re still walking behind his parents and their sisters, with Anna bringing up the rear. He settles for gently bumping their arms together. “Don’t look like that. So, yes, I did not like the fact that wearing those clothes made reminded me of when you were involuntarily hunting us. But that does not mean I am afraid of you.”

 

“That...that’s good.” Zacharias manages to say. Alfonse smiles at him.

 

“Indeed.” He says agreeably. That makes Zacharias smile back.

 

They continue walking for a bit, then Zacharias shuffles. “But...you were scared?”

 

“I wouldn’t say so,” Alfonse reassures him. “But that’s not something that belongs in our wedding.”

 

“...Right,” Zacharias mumbles.

 

Alfonse shoots him a look. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s not something you had control over.”

 

“I suppose I can’t help myself. But I will try,” Zacharias tells him seriously.

 

Alfonse smiles, making Zacharias smile back. He makes a mental note to talk to Zacharias--and, for that matter, Veronica--about not harboring too much guilt. He knows it's hard to ignore that little thread that tugs at you. He feels it for being unable to recognize Zacharias when he first saw him. Even across a battlefield, he should have run to him. He should have known.

 

But that was a conversation for another day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't really sure where to take this, so shorter chapter this time.
> 
> So, how about that update? I was super sad when [REDACTED] didn't show up T^T


	6. Happy Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a talk.
> 
> ...despite the title, this is not the last chapter!

“Hurry up, brother!”

 

Sharena rushes down the hall, with Alfonse trailing behind her. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” he pants, falling behind a little.

 

“Shush, save your breath, we’re almost there,” she assures him. She takes a sharp left and he follows her to the corridor that leads to all the storage rooms. She skids to a stop in front of one, knocking. “It’s me! I have Al!”

 

The door is opened by Anna. “Good! Get in here, you two.”

 

Alfonse doesn’t bother putting up a fight when he gets tugged inside; he can see Zacharias is in there too, sitting on the floor. “What’s going on?” he asks, looking around. Kiran is there, holding Feh. Fjorm is there, looking apologetic. Even Veronica is there.

 

“Ahem!” Anna clears her throat. “I hereby call this meeting to order.”

 

“Meeting?” Zacharias asks, voice soft and a bit hoarse. He sounds like he was just woken up.

 

“Yeah!” Sharena nods. Then she pauses, looking around. “Who did we decide was going to declare the purpose of the meeting…?”

 

Kiran raises their hand. They transfer Feh to their shoulder and roll up their sleeves. Signing quickly, they say,  _ “This is an intervention.” _

 

Alfonse looks at Zacharias. Zacharias shrugs. “What for?” Alfonse asks, confused.

 

Fjorm holds a finger up in the air. “Good communication is the foundation of a healthy relationship.”

 

Veronica adds, “And we want you to have a healthy relationship. It would be upsetting if we had to kill one or both of you if the marriage ends badly.” There’s a light twap as Sharena swats her arm.

 

Alfonse feels even more confused. “What are you guys talking about?”

 

The smiles are gone from the room. Even Feh looks sober. Sharena says quietly, in her apologetic, I-know-you-don’t-want-to-hear-it-but-I’m-gonna-say-it-anyways voice, “You guys need to talk about your feelings.”

 

“We...already do?” Zacharias ventures.

 

“Not your feelings right now,” Anna says impatiently. She looks at Alfonse directly. “You need to tell him about when he left.”

 

When he left. In those few years when he was gone and he was too, a little bit. Alfonse flinches a little. “He doesn’t need to know. It’s in the past, now.” And it was true, in his mind. He didn’t want to speak of it because it would make Zacharias sad. Besides, he’s gotten better at squashing his feelings. 

 

Zacharias is starting to look guilty. “I...apologize. Sharena suggested that we speak about that, but...I was too cowardly to approach you. Besides,” he adds, shooting a glare at Anna, “I wanted to have this conversation in private, but there was never an opportune moment.”

 

Anna rolls her eyes. “Excuses. You could have told me, and I would have ordered everyone to leave you alone.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, you’ll get your privacy. We’ll leave you alone for however long you need, provided that you guys  _ actually speak about this. _ ”

 

Alfonse glances about, a bit horrified. But everyone is nodding, even Zacharias. This time, Anna glares at him as she says, “And if this doesn’t turn out the fruit we want, I’ll make you talk-- _ in front of your parents. _ ”

 

Alfonse and Zacharias both blanch. Zacharias nods quickly and says, waving his hand, “All right, all right. Go away, all of you, I’ll make sure Alfonse doesn’t bolt.”

 

“Hey!” Alfonse protests halfheartedly, trying to pretend that he wasn’t considering it. Everyone else just leaves, filing out the door. Veronica closes the door behind her quietly, leaving him and Zacharias in the--thankfully cool in the sweltering summer heat--weapon storage room.

 

Zacharias pats the rug-covered floor next to him. “Come, sit.”

 

Alfonse hesitates, but figures that he might as well use this opportunity to indulge himself. It’s the least they can grant him for making him talk about...this. He moves over and sits down, cuddling closer to Zacharias’ side. They sit in silence for a little bit, neither knowing where to start.

 

Zacharias wraps his arm around Alfonse’s shoulder, then presses a kiss to his temple. “How are you?”

 

Alfonse dithers. “I’m well…”

 

Zacharias arches an eyebrow. “Really? I seem to recall a young prince who would insist he was fine, even after he fell off the roof and snapped his leg in two.”

 

Alfonse winces at the memory. “I don’t do that as often anymore.”

 

“That’s not what Sharena told me,” Zacharias replies, still with a raised brow.

 

“What else has she been telling you?” Alfonse sulks.

 

Zacharias sobers again. “A lot of things.” He turns, pressing their foreheads together, looking Alfonse in the eyes. “She’s worried about you. She always is.”

 

Alfonse hums, dropping his head to Zacharias’ shoulder. He dithers a bit more, then sighs. With Zacharias holding him tenderly like this, he wasn’t getting away anytime soon. And he  _ really _ doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of his parents--with the reminder of Zacharias’ unexpected disappearance, his mother might  _ actually _ order Zacharias executed, which would make for a sloppy diplomatic relationship going forward. Despite an attempt to steel his resolve, he still quails a little at the thought of talking about those days. He mumbles into Zacharias’ chest, feeling childish, “Can you go first?”

 

Zacharias raises a brow, shifting a little. “If you want me to.” He pauses, then says, “Let me start by saying this--I don’t regret much of what I chose to do. I don’t regret fleeing like a coward, even though I knew I was breaking your heart.”

 

Alfonse flushes. “You knew?”

 

“You were adorably obvious. Everyone knew,” Zacharias chuckles. Alfonse groans, embarrassed, but he motions for Zacharias to continue, which he does, slowly becoming more serious. 

 

“I don’t regret trying to take my own life.” Alfonse frowns, sitting up, ready to speak, but Zacharias presses a finger to his lips. “And I don’t regret returning to my old name during the war--I had hoped dearly that I would kill me in the invasion and that you would be none the wiser to my true identity.”

 

Alfonse’s frown deepens. Zacharias only smiles gentle and sad. “Shh. I do feel a bit sorry about that, but in the end--I did all I could to make sure you stayed alive. And I don’t regret that one bit.” His smile fades as he changes subjects. “Having the dark god speak to me...Unlike most Emblains, I was far away enough in Askr that he did not speak to me for a while. But after he did...I remember what it was like, having free will. Not being afraid for your life. And that made it worse. I was terrified that one day I would come back to myself and you would be dead. So I tried  _ everything _ I could. But the god...he thought I was useful. I was powerful. So despite my efforts, he kept me alive and hunting you.

 

“The one thing I am sorry for is hurting you--when I left, when I couldn’t come back, even right now. Even if it was for the best intentions, I still hurt you and I’m so sorry for that.”

 

In his own opinion, Alfonse was doing an admirable job holding himself together. But at Zacharias’ gently whispered apology his tears start falling. He chokes on his words, years of thoughts tumbling over each other as he tries to express years of bottled-up emotions. “I thought--I missed you so much and I was just...so sad you were gone. I loved you so much and you just left--I thought you died in the battle! We spent ages--me and Anna, I couldn’t make Sharena stay, so we sent her to lead the troops home--we spent ages looking for your body, your weapon, anything. We didn’t know what happened to you.”

 

Zacharias is perfectly quiet, letting Alfonse spill out whatever he could. “It was the worst thing in my life--I just missed you so much, and I didn’t know if you were dead, or a prisoner, or  _ something _ …” Suddenly he pulls back and hits Zacharias’ chest. “What were you thinking!? You tried to die--and you tried to make me kill you!” he shouts. Just as suddenly, his chest hitches into a sob. “I almost killed you...because I didn’t recognize you...you were gone for so long and I had tried to convince myself you weren’t ever coming back to me, that the best I could hope for was your death...I mean, I  _ hoped _ but when I saw you I convinced myself it was stupid to hope and that you would never try to kill us and then you said you killed Zacharias and I wanted so badly for you to die--I wanted to kill you for killing my friend! And then I tried to kill you and you were happy! I saw you smiling and I just wanted you to die for killing you but then Kiran stopped me and said that and I was so upset because I almost killed you, and you were so cruel to us, and--”

 

“My love, I need you to breathe,” Zacharias says gently, trying to keep his alarm out of his voice. 

 

Alfonse gives a great shuddering gasp. Zacharias pats his back a little as he breathes out heavily, then gasps back in. He does that a few more times, then mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“I missed you.”

 

“I did too.” Zacharias chokes up as well. “Not a day went by that I did not want to come crawling back to you, begging for forgiveness for leaving you to wonder like that. But I could not kill you. My failed attempt was already a bloody stain on my mind.”

 

“...Do you want to tell me about it?” Alfonse asks softly.

 

Zacharias sighs heavily. “You don’t need to know.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.” Alfonse says firmly, eyes narrowing. “Tell me.”

 

Zacharias’ eyebrows shoot up. He forgets, sometimes, how bossy Alfonse can be. “...You were asleep. I was awake, but I was tired, so I was dozing off. I thought I had fallen into that limbo between sleeping and wakefulness, when you’re not sure what is a dream and what is real. I got up and I didn’t even reach for my lance. You looked so soft and breakable, and I thought I could snap your neck, or choke you, without any effort.” His voice had dulled throughout this recital. He has seen this memory many times over the years. “And I put one hand around your throat. That was all that was needed, I thought. It was almost shameful, how easily breakable Askrians are. That’s when I snapped back to myself. And that was when I knew I had to leave.”

 

Alfonse swallows. “When was that?” he whispers.

 

“The night before the battle that I disappeared. I had no thoughts about where I would go, what I would do. I just wanted to get away before I hurt you.”

 

“So...you never planned on leaving.”

 

“I should have,” Zacharias mutters, sharp and unforgiving of himself. “I should have known that I could not flee for long.”

 

Alfonse is silent for a while. Then he murmurs, “I'm glad you came to Askr. Even if it hurt, I got to know you.”

 

“I don't regret that either,” Zacharias agrees readily.

 

“And we killed a god.”

 

“Yeah, we did.”

 

“...That was pretty awesome.”

 

“Yes,” Zacharias grins, “you were.”

 

Alfonse rolls his eyes. He sits up, swiping at his face. “It was a team effort,” he grumbles.

 

Zacharias chuckles, leaning forward to kiss Alfonse gently. “And now we’re getting married.”

 

“So maybe it was worth it, in the end,” Alfonse tilts his head and returns the kiss. “Maybe if things were different, we wouldn’t have ended up here.”

 

“Mmm. Maybe.” It wasn’t worth speculating about--what mattered was Alfonse here, in his lap, right now. He nuzzles along his cheek and smiles. “Either way, I think we’ve earned our happy ending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a bit of trouble to get out! So...much...dialogue....
> 
> But it's done!


	7. Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discuss traditions and swap stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of crime such as murder, including an attempt on the life of a small child. The kid survives, though, and there's not much detail.

“And, as is traditional, they will be sent on a honeymoon. We will have to extend the honeymoon a little to accommodate a visit to Embla as well--”

“Wait.” Jasper pauses to look at Susanne. Susanne asks, head tilting in curiosity, “What is a honeymoon?”

Jasper blinks. Blinks again. Then he stumbles to explain. “Ah, er, it is a tradition here--the couple takes some time off and travels together, basically.”

The three Emblians look at each other.

The queen nods. “Yes. And for the royal family, it is a chance to visit the populace. Typically, the newly wedded couple takes about a week to travel about. My husband and I did ten days--a week to travel and greet the people, and three days on the coast to rest and vacation.”

Zacharias, Susanne, and Veronica blink at this information, digesting the idea of a honeymoon. Susanne nods, taking notes. “I see...that’s quite interesting. In Embla, the only post-wedding tradition is the consummation of the marriage. If that does not happen directly after the wedding, it is enough to be grounds for annulment.”

“Do you have to consummate on the night of the marriage?” Jasper asks. It’s his turn to be curious.

Susanne nods. “Like I said, it’s grounds for annulment if it doesn’t go through. In fact, it’s traditional--and I do recommend it, to appease some of the more traditionally-minded councilmembers--to have a doctor exam--”

“No!” Everyone around the table jumps three feet in the air as Zacharias slams his fist down onto the table. “Fuck tradition, it’s demeaning and we’re not. Doing. That.”

The entire room is stunned into silence at his outburst. Susanne is pale, and she stutters, “V-very well…”

“I’m glad,” Zacharias says through gritted teeth, “that we are in agreement.” He settles back in his chair, crossing his arms.

There’s an awkward silence. The queen finally breaks in, leaning forward and humming. “In Askr, we have no such rule. Especially since arranged marriages are so prominent, oftentimes new spouses don’t even share the same room, let alone have physical relations.”

The king elaborates. “Of course, it’s not frowned upon to get to know one another on the wedding night--in fact, it is preferable. But at the same time, it’s no shame if the partners decide to wait until later.”

“In fact, Alfonse here wasn’t created until two years into our marriage,” the queen muses.

“Mother!” 

“Sorry, dearest.”

Susanne clears her throat. “Anyways, it is considered an important part of the ceremony of marriage. Since Prince Bruno is, after all, the crown prince, I am afraid that I must insist that you two...follow tradition.” At Zacharias’ glare, she gulps and hastily adds, “Some traditions! Others can be ignored, especially if we’re being quite faithful to everything else.”

By the door, Anna snorts loudly. “‘Following tradition’ won’t be a problem for these two. The more pressing issue is if we can keep their hands off of each other before the wedding.”

Alfonse and Zacharias both pretend to have not heard her. Instead, Zacharias turns to Alfonse, seeking further explanation. “Please elaborate. What do you do on a…’honeymoon’?”

Alfonse shrugs. “I don’t really know.” His lips quirk upwards, “Obviously, I’ve never been on one, so the most I know is that you go sightseeing. We have to greet our subjects, both in Embla and in Askr, so sometimes they give us gifts and just--say hi. And you just spend time together.”

Zacharias thinks. A few weeks of showing off his husband, no responsibilities or annoying family members, and bedding down together every night… “That sounds lovely. I would very much like to, ah, spend time with you.”

Alfonse blinks, reddening. “Don’t say it like that.”

Zacharias blinks back. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Alfonse struggles with his words a little. “It sounds dirty when you say it like that. Especially after...”

Zacharias twitches a little, feeling the urge to tease his fiance. “So...are you opposed to...spending time together after the wedding?” He tries to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lip is twitching.

That makes Alfonse bury his face in his hands. He’s been doing a lot of that ever since the wedding talks started, Zacharias notes absently. It’s adorable. Alfonse mumbles, “Y-your sister--Veronica is here. And my parents…”

Zacharias’s face breaks and he chuckles, finished teasing Alfonse. He turns to address Jasper. “Any other Askrian traditions we should bring up?”

Jasper fumbles through his notes, examining everything with a critical eye. Susanne also frowns, looking at hers as well.

Jasper sits up. “We usually have the father as a part of the wedding party?”

“Our father is dead,” Veronica announces bluntly.

“And he was a paranoid asshole,” Zacharias adds. “I wouldn't want him at my wedding anyway.”

Jasper blanches at their bluntness. “...Er. Yes. We could probably do away with that. Unless His Majesty wishes…?”

The king flaps his hand. “Nah, I'll just raid the open bar while the ceremony is going on.”

Susanne sighs, making a note on her papers. If Alfonse cranes his head, he can see it says no open bar!!! She looks up from her notes and continues, wisely choosing to ignore the king. “For our wedding parties, we have a maid or man of honor for each side, along with any groom-or-brides men-or-lady?”

Jasper leans forward. “We do have bridesmaids and groomsmen. We don’t have this...person of honor. Do they have any additional duties?”

“Yes.” Susanne shuffles her notes--more of a nervous tic than for any necessary reason. “They help out with the wedding--on the day of, they help dress the couple, they help arrange the wedding hall, greet guests as they enter, deal with any last-minute necessities such as food, and generally do their best to take stress off the couple.”

Zacharias and Alfonse glance at each other. Alfonse immediately shouts, “I call Sharena!”

Zacharias mutters an oath under his breath. He turns to look at Veronica, who makes a face. “No. I want to just enjoy the party.”

“Ugh,” Zacharias mutters. “All right...how about Commander Anna?” He cranes his neck to look at her. “You're pretty responsible, right?”

“I might have other duties, since I'll be undoubtedly leading the guardsmen. We'll have to ask.” Anna replies.

Alfonse sighs, then complains, “Our friend group is too overlapping. Don’t you have any friends that you want to have standing next to you?”

Zacharias makes a face. “I'm not letting Niles within a five mile radius of you during our wedding.”

Alfonse breaks into a laugh. “Yeah, he's not the best candidate.”

Zacharias sighs at the prospect that he’ll be standing alone at his wedding. He starts twirling the ring that sits on his pinky finger--a nervouc habit of his. “I wish Mother was alive. She would have loved this.” He sounds wistful. 

Alfonse’s eyes sadden. He remembers Zacharias mourning his mother for the first few months of their acquaintance. She had died only a little while before Zacharias arrived at Askr, and the wound had healed during their time together. He reaches under the table to touch Zacharias’s knee. “Do you think she would have liked me?” he asks softly.

Zacharias smiles. He lifts his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “She would have loved you,” he replies sweetly. “The king, on the other hand…”

Veronica barks with laughter. “Oh, I bet he's hating this! Father is probably turning in his grave.”

The siblings giggle together at the thought. Zacharias turns to Susanne, eyes bright with merriment. “Can we make a new tradition where we stop by the king’s grave and spit on it?”

Susanne blanches. “Please don't--”

Veronica declares grandly, “I'm the Queen! I'll allow it.” She and Zacharias grin at each other. Alfonse leans forward, head on the table, trying to hide his giggles at their enthusiasm, but he's shaking so hard the whole table vibrates with his suppressed laughter. The queen covers her mouth with one hand, coughing, but the king is less subtle. He's downright guffawing. He turns to Jasper and begs,

“Please, can we make it so that people go to the graves of their family and disrespect the ones they hate? I have so many cousins I want to take post-emptive revenge on!”

The queen slaps his arm. “My love, you already extracted your revenge. You had them all jailed, remember?”

“Yeah, but…they tried to drown our baby!” the king whines, pouting.

The queen replies, exasperated, “He’s still alive, though.” She gestures at Alfonse, who waves at his father, deadpan. 

Zacharias raises a brow. He hasn’t heard this tale before. He turns to Alfonse. “Your relatives attempted to drown you?”

Alfonse flaps a hand, strangely dismissive about the prospect. “They conspired to drown the heir and take over the throne while Mother and Father were in mourning. They threw me into the river, but apparently I was a strong swimmer as a babe, and the usually violent current had calmed that day and drifted me into some rushes, where I was found four hours later, playing with duck feathers.” He pauses at the memory, grimacing. “The people called me the ‘blessed prince’ for years, claiming a miracle occurred. Wasn’t much of a miracle, though--the healers think that incident is the reason why I was so sickly as a child.”

There’s a small pause as everyone digests this new piece of information. The king is making angry faces at the table, and Zacharias is very tempted to join him in his quest to spit on a few graves. Veronica is the first one to break the silence, making a face. “I thought Embla was bad. I suppose power-hungry idiots are everywhere.”

“You can say that again,” Alfonse agrees. 

Jasper clears his throat. He looks a little pale at the idea of drowning babies. “Ah...could we get back to the topic at hand?”

“Right, sorry, Jasper.” The king waves a hand. “What were we talking about?”

“Wedding traditions. The honeymoon.”

“Wait, before we move on…” the queen turns to Susanne as Jasper sighs quietly. “So...people are required to become intimate after the wedding? What about arranged marriages?”

“It’s a tradition, leftover from the days where marriages were mostly for the purpose of begetting an heir,” Susanne explains. “Typically, only children can inherit goods, so obtaining a healthy heir in a timely manner was very important. Nowadays, adoption is considered blood relation, so it’s not nearly as pressing, but many of the upper class--the people who are most likely to deride this wedding--still considers it an important tradition.”

Jasper hums, interested despite himself. “In Askr, anyone can inherit anything. In fact, our good king’s father was elected to his position as king when the previous king’s son was deemed unsuitable.”

Veronica is looking morbidly curious, so Alfonse leans closer and recites, “Crown Prince Lars the Fourth was tried and found guilty of two counts of horse theft, one count of grand larceny, and three counts of murdering witnesses, stripping them of their belongings, and dumping the bodies into a potable water source, nearly poisoning the whole city. And a count of loitering.”

Veronica looks impressed. Whether she’s more impressed by Prince Lars’ exploits or by Alfonse’s memory is yet to be discovered, because Jasper coughs, pale once more. “Can we...stop discussing this? I’d like to map out their honeymoon route then wrap up the meeting.”

“How did he kill them?” Veronic interrupts him, eyes wide with curiosity.

Alfonse sits up straight, eyes sparkling. But he's prevented from launching himself into the morbid tale by his mother, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Take Princess Veronica to the library later, show her the tapestries.” She turns to Veronica and explains, “We keep illustrations of happenings in tapestries. Prince Lars, rebellion, murder...even Alfonse’s almost-drowning is recorded in the Morbid Tapestries, which contains the more colorful parts of Askrian royal history. They'll provide good illustrations for the story.”

Across the table, Susanne says, “I think Jasper passed out.” True to her observation, Jasper is gasping for breath, head on the table.

The king is snickering again. Alfonse looks sheepish. “Sorry, Jasper. Let's take a bit of a break? So you can pull yourself together?”

Veronica nods eagerly. “Seconded. Then I can go see the tapestries!”

Alfonse looks at Susanne, who sighs and starts fanning her cohort. “Very well, you're all dismissed.”

Jasper mumbles agreement. Veronica jumps up from her chair. “Let's go! Show me!”

Alfonse laughs. He reaches out, grabbing Zacharias’ hand in one and Veronica’s with the other. “To the library! To murder!” he says, eyes sparkling with cheer. 

“To murder!” Veronica echos him happily. That's the last straw for Zacharias. He bursts into laughter, letting his finace and his little sister drag him out the door to murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What started as an examination of wedding traditions ended up running away from me.


	8. Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zacharias paints a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to commentator Niko, who wanted to see more about Zacharuno's drawings and provided inspiration for this chapter!

Alfonse gets up out of his chair and follows everyone out the door. He’s trying not to frown too obviously, but the latest meeting was as boring as most of the other ones. He’s glad to be finally out of that room. He pauses in the corridor, considering what he wants to do today. Perhaps he should read that Emblian history book Veronica loaned him.

 

“Alfonse, wait.” Alfonse glances over his shoulder at Zacharias, watching his fiance stride over to him. He shivers at bit at the image Zacharias struck--tall, long strides, perfectly proportioned body. He turns to face him properly, cocking his head curiously.

 

“Yes?”

 

Zacharias nibbles his bottom lip, almost nervously. “Do you have a moment?”

 

“I have many moments,” Alfonse replies, a bit cheeky. “What do you need?”

 

Zacharias looks--unduly nervous. “I want you to...to sit for me. Like….”

 

“Sit for you? As in…” Alfonse does a funny little motion with his hands, waving one about as if drawing in midair.

 

Zacharias nods. “I’d like...I’d like to paint you.” He looks embarrassed. “I...I actually took the liberty to ask a few servants to set up some supplies in one of the meeting rooms. It was only after everything was set up that I remembered that I actually needed to ask you to be my model.”

 

Alfonse chuckles. He can imagine the look on Zacharias’ face when he realized his foolishness. “I’d be happy to sit for you. Lead the way.”

 

Zacharias beams at him. He takes his hand and tugs him down the hallway, leading Alfonse--and, by extension, Anna--around two corners to one of the bigger meeting halls. There were two servants standing by the walls, and Alfonse nods at them gratefully, then turns to examine the space. There’s an easel and a canvas, a small bar cart of paints and brushes, several lamps on long adjustable poles, and a couch that he recognizes as originating from the library. He lets go of Zacharias’ hand and takes a few steps forward towards the seat, then pauses and asks, “How would you like me?”

 

Zacharias, distracted by examining his work station, mutters something that sounds like  _ in every way possible.  _ Alfonse blushes, picking up one of the decorative throw pillows from the couch and tossing it at Zacharias, who dodges it easily despite not even looking at him. “I heard that.”

 

Zacharias blushes as well, but he chuckles. “What I meant to say was...whatever’s comfortable for you.”

 

Alfonse nods and takes a seat. He takes a moment to think, then asks, “What will this painting be for?”

 

Zacharias pauses for a moment. He still sets up his station with practiced ease--moving the canvas about, opening paints, mixing them together--but he speaks slowly. “It will be for me.”

 

In that case...Alfonse relaxes a little, leaning back on the couch. He gets himself into a comfortable, relaxed position, then nods at Zacharias. One of the servants step forward, but Zacharias shakes his head. He walks closer himself, lighting and extinguishing lamps until he gets the lighting he wants. Then he returns to his canvas and starts.

 

Usually Alfonse hates sitting for paintings with a burning passion. He thinks it’s terribly confining and he never likes seeing himself in paintings--he always looks too stiff, in a strange contrast to the constant brightness of his father and Sharena and the cool majesty of his mother. But this setting was much better. He can occupy himself with watching Zacharias work, watching his eyes drift about, watching him turn his steady gaze back to the canvas. In focus, Zacharias’ eyes are hard, but more like a rounded river pebble than the steel sword that comes out in battle. After a while of just watching him work, appreciating the view, Alfonse speaks up.

 

“I never realized you liked to draw until that day during the tailoring.”

 

Zacharias hums absently. “I learned as a part of my studies as the crown prince. In Askr, I didn’t draw that often, but when I returned to Embla, I used it to combat my homesickness.”

 

Alfonse smiles, glad as always that Zacharias called Askr home. Zacharias pauses to sketch a little, then continues, “I destroyed as many pictures as I drew, though--when I felt like myself, I would draw pictures of my time at Askr to help myself remember. When I was not myself, I would destroy them in fits of rage and madness.”

 

A while later--long for Alfonse, but short compared to most of the painters he’s sat for, Zacharias switches to his paints. At a hastily muffled noise of surprise from one of the servants, Zacharias chuckles. “I’m a quicker draw than most artists. I inadvertently practiced sketching quickly but accurately in Embla--I wanted to finish my drawings quickly before I got pulled away by one thing or another.”

 

He adds, shyly, “Plus, I’ve probably drawn you more times than anything else. I wanted to make sure I never forgot your face.”

 

Alfonse smiles at him happily. He focuses on sitting still, trying not to move. Zacharias is quick and efficient, mixing paint with a steady hand while looking at Alfonse. His strokes across the paper are deft and easy. He works as though he already knows exactly how the painting will look when he's done.

 

A long silence later, Zacharias clears his throat. “May I ask you something?”

 

Alfonse starts, surprised. “Yes, of course, what is it?”

 

“During the meeting, you seemed...upset.” Zacharias glances at him, still moving his hand across the canvas.

 

Alfonse grimaces. He wished Zacharias hadn’t brought that up. “No, I was being childish.”

 

“About what?” Zacharias asks.

 

Alfonse bites his lip, trying his best to decide how to word this. “In today’s meeting...I started noticing that they were talking a lot about ‘what the council wants’ or ‘what the people want to see.’ And I thought--” He makes a face again. “I thought that it shouldn’t matter what other people want, especially people I have never met in my life. But it’s not quite true, is it? We need to care. It’s not really our wedding.” He moves his head, going to look away, but he remembers the painting and quickly rearranges himself again in the same pose as he continues. “It’s--I’m being quite churlish. We do get to make choices about a lot of stuff. But…” he trails off.

 

Zacharias continues his thought. “But it doesn’t really feel like our wedding. It feels like being a dress-up doll.”

 

“Exactly.” Alfonse closes his eyes briefly. “It’s...well, I’m very happy that we’re getting married. But...we’ve just been through so much together. After all of--everything, people arguing about what  _ colors _ the napkins should be just seems unnecessary.” He can’t help a chuckle bubbling out of his chest. “They were right. I shouldn’t have joined the Order of Heroes. I forgot what it’s like to have to do this song and dance.”

 

“No,” Zacharias mutters.

 

Alfonse blinks in surprise. “No?”

 

“No. You remembered what it’s like to be free.”

 

Alfonse muses on that strange statement for a while as Zacharias continues painting. Zacharias soon breaks the silence once more. “I spent a long time thinking about freedom and all it entails,” he explains sheepishly. He pauses a moment, pursing his lips, and Alfonse’s eyes narrow. That was a bad-idea expression right there. He looks Alfonse dead in the eyes. “Have you considered eloping?”

 

“Wh-what!” Alfonse sputters. He knew Zacharias would think of something incredible, but he was still thrown off by the blunt expression. Zacharias smiles, amused at his adorable response, but soon his smile fades into something more serious.

 

“If you wanted to elope, we could. I would do it for you.”

 

“Mother would have you executed.” Alfonse’s shock manifests as an absurdist laugh, but Zacharias remains dead serious. He shrugs and replies,

 

“It’s a risk I’d be willing to take, if it would make you happy.”

 

Alfonse’s laugh bubbles down. He considers that response seriously, examining it from every angle, before he replies, much slower. “Thank you. But no, we'll endure this. I'm just...tired. The sooner we get married, the less chance of something going wrong.”

 

“Something going wrong?” Zacharias echos, brows furrowing in confusion. “Care to elaborate?”

 

Alfonse shrugs. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, catching himself halfway through and hastily smoothing it back down. “It just seems to perfect! Something’s gonna go wrong sometime. That’s just how things work.”

 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Zacharias asks rhetorically, waving his paintbrush around in the air.

 

“Uh, you could decide that you don’t actually want to marry me halfway through the engagement?”

 

This time, it’s Zacharias’ turn to sputter in shock. He jerks, then stops abruptly, scrambling to prevent his paints from splattering on the ground or ruining his painting. He mutters a few choice curses under his breath until he manages to get everything balanced and situated again. Then his head snaps up and he stares at Alfonse. “What the hell does that mean?” he asks, sounding utterly baffled.

 

Alfonse only shrugs. He doesn’t seem too bothered by his offhand statement. “Well, it could happen.”

 

Zacharias stares at him. “We were friends for five, six years. You killed a  _ god _ to save me and my sister. I’m pretty sure I want to marry you.”

 

Alfonse stifles a little giggle at Zacharias’ deadpan seriousness, but when he speaks it’s slower and more thoughtful. “I mean, we never really did talk about whether we  _ actually  _ wanted to get married or not, did we? There was that marriage pact when we were--what, I was fourteen? But besides that, we haven’t really talked about it, especially not recently. My parents just kind of--arranged it, and they didn’t really ask either of us. They didn’t really ask  _ me. _ ”

 

Sadness flashes across Zacharias’ face, but it soon dances over to confusion. He asks, “Wait, has no one told you?” At Alfonse’s face, he says, sounding enlightened, “Oh. No one told you.”

 

“Told me what?”

 

“That I wrote a very long letter listing out the reasons why a marriage to you, and you specifically, would benefit both of our countries, ending by asking--no,  _ begging _ \--your parents to let me marry you,” Zacharias says with a smile.

 

Alfonse stares at him. “Wait, really?” He gets a nod in return, and he whispers in awe, “No one told  _ me.  _ You never told me!” He points an accusing finger at Zacharias.

 

“I take full responsibility.” Zacharias raises both hands in the air in surrender, then goes back to dabbing paint onto the canvas. Alfonse makes a variety of facial expressions as he processes that bit of intelligence. Zacharias says, thoughtfully, “You should ask your parents for the letter. Just…” he grimaces, steels himself, and continues, “...please don’t read it while I’m in the room. It’s was quite an undignified letter.”

 

“Oh, and you’re a bastion of dignity, aren’t you?” Alfonse mutters teasingly. 

 

Zacharias points a paintbrush at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says with a grin, and then goes back to painting.

 

Alfonse lets him take a few moments to recover his pride, then asks shyly, “So...you do want to marry me?”

 

“Alfonse, you’re  _ utterly perfect. _ ” Zacharias says seriously. “It’s an honor to be allowed to marry you.” He chuckles a little bit. “You  _ slayed a god _ for my sake. You’re smart, kind, beautiful, hardworking, and  _ fucking amazing _ with a sword.”

 

That triggers another bark of laughter from Alfonse. He smiles at Zacharias. “You’re amazing too. You are so strong, and I love you.” He pauses, then adds, “Also, I find you unreasonably attractive.”

 

“I love you too,” Zacharias replies quietly. He’s silent for a long moment, then he steps away from his canvas, nodding. “I’ll probably work on it more over the next few days. I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied with it.” He sighs. “But I won’t take up more of your time. You can get up if you want to.”

 

Alfonse stands, bending this way and that, hearing his joints creak and crack. He mutters  _ too old for this _ , ignoring Anna’s scoff, and then makes a beeline towards Zacharias, stepping around the canvas. He stops, staring.

 

Zacharias was a beautiful artist. But beyond his mere technical skill, every stroke, every dot of paint had been applied with such visible love and care. The painting was done quickly, but it was obvious that the artist loved every stroke of it.

 

And the subject--Alfonse smiles, looking at it. He's leaning in his chair, legs pulled up, slouching a little bit. He’s not stiff or unsmiling. He's looking directly at the viewer, and Zacharias managed to capture the soft openness of his small smile and the warm love in his gaze in a way that no other painter has.

 

He finds his voice a few minutes later. “It’s amazing. By far my favorite portrait of myself.”

 

A faint blush appears on Zacharias’ cheekbones. “I’m no expert….”

 

“Oh, but you are,” Alfonse smiles. “You’re an expert in me. You undoubtedly know me better than anyone but Sharena.”

 

Zacharias smiles at him, and looks at the picture. It’s not a perfect likeness, in his opinion, but nothing could ever capture Alfonse’s beauty perfectly, not even that strange picture tome Kiran owned. He reaches for Alfonse, pulling him in close to his side. “Someday, I’ll borrow Kiran’s picture tome, and I’ll paint a portrait for both of us,” he promises.

 

Alfonse leans up to kiss his cheek. “When the future generations remember us, I hope they will remember us the way we appear when drawn by your hand,” he says. “I hope that they will remember us as happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the chapter that went through the most revisions! But I'm very happy with the way it turned out.


	9. Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They enjoy the Winter Solstice.

Zacharias and Anna are waiting outside his room as he emerges. He smiles at them both, hoping they can see it over the top of his thick blue scarf. Zacharias and Anna are both similarly bundled up in deference to the snowy weather--and it’ll only get colder as the day fades away and the night deepens on the longest night of the year.

 

The three of them walk down the hallway towards Sharena’s room. In front of her door, she and Kiran are helping Veronica put on warm clothing. Sharena is chattering away, as usual. “Basically, it’s the longest night of the year, so we keep any nefarious gods and spirits at bay by lighting candles and fires to warm up and light up the area. At first it was mostly a practical thing, but soon it kinda became a big party with traditions and stuff. There’ll be bonfires, a tournament, and sweets, and cookies, and hot drinks, and market stalls selling foods and trinkets, and we buy gifts to give each other at the stalls--it’s supposed to be about taking the gloomiest night of the year and making it warm and happy with love and friendship. It’s my favorite holiday!”

 

Veronica nods, smiling a little, even as Kiran walks around her, wrapping the scarf around and around her face, stepping over Sharena, who’s kneeling down to button up her coat. “It sounds like fun. So you just party all day?”

 

“Yup!”

 

Kiran tucks the end of the scarf in carefully, making sure it won’t get dislodged, and splays their gloved fingers. Turning so everyone could read their hands, they say,  _ “We have a very similar tradition four days from now, called Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday as well. Maybe you guys should come visit me so you can experience it.” _

 

Alfonse grimaces. Kiran’s world was strange and fun, but it was also quite scary. “This time, warn us about any nefarious automobiles beforehand, yes?”

 

Kiran laughs, apologizing again for the incident.

 

Sharena stands up, reaching into her pocket. “Where’s Feh? I have her scarf, but I haven’t seen her.”

 

“She’s likely with the King and Queen,” Anna says. She bounces on her feet, putting on her earmuffs. “Quit lollygagging and let’s go outside!”

 

Sharena laughs, and cries, “Last one there buys us all hot chocolate!”

 

She turns and bolts, followed closely by Veronica, who stumbles, unused to the heavy clothing. Kiran squawks, signing that they don’t have money, and runs after them as well. Anna gives them a stink eye and jogs off after them. Alfonse turns to Zacharias, who smiles expectantly, glad to be left alone again.

 

But Alfonse only giggles. “Sorry, my love, but I’m not buying all of those vultures hot chocolate.” 

 

And he breaks into a run.

 

Zacharias pouts, then realizes he was currently in last place. He yelps then runs after his fiance.

 

Despite his longer legs, he’s still the last one out of the doors. Alfonse is laughing, bent double, and Veronica had somehow tripped and ended up face-down in the snow. Sharena was trying to help her up, and Anna was gathering up snow and tossing it into the air.

 

“You little minx…” Zacharias growls at Alfonse, who only grins apologetically. Zacharias leans down, gathering up a handful of snow. He straightens up, smiling angelically at Alfonse as he approaches. “Get over here, my love,” he purrs as he packs the snow tighter in his hands. Alfonse just shrugs, still smiling.

 

“I deserve it.”

 

Zacharias’ snowball hits him square in the chest, sending him reeling.

 

The next snowball hits the back of Zacharias’ head square-on. He turns and sees Anna, grinning. “As commander, I must take any signs of violence against our Prince very seriously,” she tells him, sounding deadpan.

 

Less than a minute later, snowballs are flying everywhere. Soon it becomes an all out war--forts were being built, and Anna had commandeered Alfonse’s scarf and tied it to a stick, flying her makeshift flag high. They had inadvertently divided up into two teams--Anna, Alfonse, and Veronica on one side, Zacharias, Sharena, and Kiran on the other, with assorted children, strangers and a few guards who were drawn in by the commotion making up the troops.

 

Alfonse shivers, peeking over the edge of their fort, then ducking quickly as a snowball flies over his head. The chill was infinitely more obvious without his scarf, but Anna was having too much fun waving it about and screaming, “WAR!” at the top of her lungs. Veronica was currently constructing some sort of trebuchet out of a few sticks and some rocks as a counterweight, using Anna’s scarf as a sling. She grins, loading it up, and carefully fires. 

 

On the opposite side of the wall, someone yelps. It sounds like Kiran. Veronica giggles, looking pleased.

 

Alfonse yells over the wall, “Surrender! We have superior firepower, as well as rations to last a year!”

 

Anna mouths at him, “Rations?” Alfonse reaches into his pocket and pulls out some crackers wrapped in wax paper that he nabbed from the kitchen during breakfast. Veronica quickly snatches up one and bites into it.

 

On the other team, Sharena shouts, “We will never surrender, you curs! We have the superior tactician!”

 

Veronica loads up her trebuchet again and sends another snowball flying through the air. This time, Zacharias curses, sending troops on both side into giggling fits.

 

Anna sets everyone to the task of making more snowballs for the trebuchet. Veronica looks pleased that her little contraption was working. Alfonse is set on watch, so he peeks over their barricade. There’s no movement from the other side.

 

He watches, suspicious, for a moment. His patience pays off.

 

Suddenly, the entirety of the Sharena-Zacharias-Kiran army vaults over their snow fort, yelling war cries, carrying armfuls of snowballs. Apparently Kiran had decided that they would never win against Veronica’s trebuchet and had elected for a full-frontal attack. Alfonse’s cry of alarm sets everyone up in arms, and almost as one, their own army stands up to meet them with a flurry of snowballs.

 

Alfonse has to double over, gasping and wheezing with laughter. He picks up a snowball and lobs it in the general direction of everyone, accidentally hitting Anna’s flag. While he’s distracted with trying to breath, he gets tackled backwards into the snow.

 

Zacharias’ bulk weighs him down onto the ground as he smiles. He leans forward and nuzzles Alfonse’s cold throat. “I have you at my mercy, Prince,” he says, sounding amused.

 

“Do you?” Alfonse arches a brow. He gathers up a handful of snow and dumps it onto the back of Zacharias’ head. Zacharias swears colorfully, sitting up, shaking the snow out of his hair, while Alfonse laughs at him.

 

“You are the worst,” Zacharias says affectionately. He reaches forward, taking his hand, and pulling him upright as well. “Let’s leave our armies to duke it out and go get hot chocolate.”

 

“Agreed,” Alfonse murmurs, shivering. 

 

The two of them attempt to slip away. They only get so far before the rest of their friends catch up, equally as wet and cold. Anna moves to hand back Alfonse’s scarf, but pauses--Alfonse is wearing a long purple one instead. Zacharias grins smugly at her and reaches out, grabbing Alfonse’s scarf and pulling it around his own bare neck as Alfonse snuggles into his borrowed scarf, smelling the spicy-woodsy scent of his fiance.

 

Anna rolls her eyes at them. Veronica reaches out and grabs her brother’s arm. “You’re going to buy us hot chocolate, right, Bruno?” she demands more than asks. He nods, smiling.

 

“Or tea, or coffee, or whatever warm drink you guys would like.” 

 

They make their way over to the stalls, set up along the street. Vendors are aggressively hawking their wares. People are huddled around bonfires, or purchasing things from shops. And Veronica’s eyes are alight, taking everything in. “Look at all the snacks!”

 

Anna grins, patting her back. “Do you see why we told you to skip breakfast?”

 

Sharena chimes in. “If any of you see something good, let us know!”

 

Right on cue, Alfonse gasps. “Pancakes!” He tugs on Zacharias’ arm, yanking him and subsequently Veronica over to one stall. The lady manning the stall is frying up round, flat pieces of dough, stuffed with sugar, spices, and chopped nuts. He leans over, smiling at her. “Can we have six--no, seven, please?” He turns and looks over Zacharias’ shoulder, frowning. “Where’s Fjorm? She said she was coming, right?”

 

Sharena joins him on his other side, followed by Anna and Kiran. Kiran was bouncing excitedly, telling Anna about how they had these sort of foods where they came from too. Sharena shrugs. “I dunno, she said she would be here. Get one for her anyways.”

 

Alfonse nods, accepting the wax paper-wrapped snacks from the lady. They shuffle together away from the stall to stop blocking the view, and he passes out the pancakes, giving Sharena’s Fjorm’s to hold. “Be careful, it’s hot,” he warns everyone.

 

Veronica had already taken a bite. She squeaks in alarm and pain as hot sugar bursts onto her tongue. Anna and Kiran both start fanning her in unison, trying to blow cool air her way to ease the mild tongue burn. She swallows the bite with difficulty, but takes another without hesitation, apparently deciding that the flavor was worth the pain.

 

“Want me to cool those down for you?” Fjorm sounds amused, coming up behind Alfonse and Zacharias. Sharena squeals in delight.

 

“Hi, Fjorm! Here’s yours! You’re late!” she rushes out, handing Fjorm her own pancake. 

 

Fjorm bows. “Sorry. I got a bit caught up with some children. They were making me make snowflakes for them.”

 

With Fjorm in tow now, their party of seven wanders around the market, looking at wares and buying pretty much every food they come across. They get roasted chestnuts, cookies decorated with sugar to look like candles and snowflakes, baked apples dripping caramel sauce all over their gloves, warm beef soup served in little cups made of bread, blue-and-white striped candies, hot baked potatoes, and a piping loaf of bread stuffed with meat and sauce, which they struggled to split amongst themselves without dumping the filling all over the ground. And of course, Zacharias buys them all hot chocolate.

 

As they walk and eat, they also shop for little presents to buy each other--coin purses, whetstones, new books, even a small handcarved globe for Kiran. In a matter of moments, they all have bags hanging off their arms, doing their best to balance the mountain of knick-knacks in varying levels of usefulness and their food.

 

When the sun slowly set in the midafternoon, they ended up claiming one bonfire for themselves, eating their snacks and drinking their drinks. After the first cup of hot chocolate, Anna, Fjorm, and Zacharias had swapped to hot mulled wine. Alfonse had wandered off at one point and returned with a strange pot that had a divider down the middle, with one half filled with hot chocolate and the other with apple cider, and he, Sharena, and Veronica were making a valiant attempt at finishing it off. Kiran had bought another three pancakes and were gorging themself, waxing poetic about their parent’s homeland in the wintertime with one hand.

 

“Mind if we join you?” Sharena and Alfonse part to allow their mother and father into the circle. Mother helps herself to a bit of hot chocolate and accepts Fjorm’s offer of a chestnut. She smiles at Fjorm and Veronica, and reaches over to pat Kiran’s shoulder as well. “For three of you, this is your first Winter Solstice, yes? How are you enjoying it?”

 

Kiran explains to her as well that they celebrated something very similar in their world, but the Askrian version was just as, if not more, delightful. Veronica uses their conversation to swallow a bite of potato and mumbles, “It’s...really fun. I love it a lot. Maybe next year, there’ll be Emblian tourists who’ll come and experience this as well.”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” the king says warmly.

 

Fjorm admits, “This is not my first Solstice, actually. I came here with my nursemaid once when I was young. It’s just as vibrant as I remember.”

 

“Did none of you decide to join the tournament?” the king asks, stealing a piece of potato from his daughter. He takes a bite and hops around a bit, breathing in and out quickly to try and cool down. 

 

Sharena smirks at him, and answers, “Nope! We decided to just hang out at the market instead.”

 

The conversations around the fire strike up again, full of cheer, but the queen soon interrupts by reaching into her robes and pulling out a handful of candles. “It’s going to get dark soon, so let’s light our candles and get ready to join the procession.”

 

Everyone takes a candle. Sharena and Anna start giving Veronica, Fjorm, and Kiran a crash course on the songs sung in the parade while Zacharias and Alfonse go around, lighting everyone’s candles with the help of the firepit. Leaving their belongings near the bonfire, they follow the king and queen towards the town square, where villagers were already gathering.

 

While they wait for the procession to begin, Zacharias touches Alfonse’s hand. “Let me borrow your candle for a moment.” Confused, Alfonse passes it to him, and watches as Zacharias gestures over and hands off both of their candles to Kiran and Sharena. Alfonse looks at his sister and his friends for a hint, but they all look just as confused, turning to watch Zacharias.

 

In the candlelight, Zacharias is starting to blush. “I asked Jasper, and he said you Askrians do this too, but on one knee, but I’m going to do two, just because...Mother would have liked it that way.” Behind him, the queen gasps loudly--the only one who put two and two together. Her gasp gains the attention of a few others, and Zacharias blushes harder as other people start craning necks and moving closer to figure out what’s going on.

 

Zacharias sinks down onto his knees before he could lose his nerve. He reaches out, taking both of Alfonse’s hands in his, looking up at Alfonse. He takes a breath and begins. “My love, you have no idea how ecstatic I was when your father wrote to me about our pending marriage. It seemed like a dream come true--that after all I’ve done to you, what I dreamed of for so long would actually occur.”

 

Behind him, Veronica hisses, “What’s he going on about?” Sharena shushes her. Alfonse can’t tear his eyes away from Zacharias’, who smiles nervously and continues.

 

“I know that...for marriages for people like us, we usually don’t really do this. Our parents, or guardians, or whatever decide we should be married because it would be good for our countries or whatever, we consent, and then the wedding’s on.” His voice is getting stronger, and his hands grip Alfonse’s steadily. “And it’s true--that this is a very important wedding for both of our countries. But I do not want anyone to think--I do not want  _ you _ to think, even in the slightest, that this wedding is merely transactional. That this wedding is one of convenience, or diplomatic security.” His grip tightens on Alfonse’s hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you properly ever in our nine months of engagement. But after we talked last month, I decided that I want you to know for certain that our wedding is about our love, and everything else is just extra.

 

“So, I wanted to ask you, not as from one prince to another, or even as one Emblian to an Askrian, but as someone who loves you very much and who wants nothing from you but your love...” Zacharias lets go of his hands, and reaches for his own right hand. He pulls off the small ring he wore on his pinky finger and holds it out, looking up at Alfonse with wide eyes. “Will you marry me?”

 

The town square is silent. Everyone is holding a collective breath. Alfonse stares at Zacharias, marvelling at his bravery, reeling at how much he loves him. His eyes are starting to water, and he knows he needs to answer before he chokes. “Yes, absolutely, of course yes.”

 

A loud cheer starts up from the crowd. Zacharias’ smile is as bright as the sun.  He springs to his feet, moving closer, drawing Alfonse in. He reaches for Alfonse’s hand, pulling off his glove and tossing it to the ground, focused on pushing the ring--a thin gold band with only a single swooping feather--onto his finger. It’s a perfect fit. Zacharias presses a kiss to his forehead and whispers, “This was my mother’s. I’ve never taken it off since her death. It goes to you now.”

 

Alfonse can only nod in response, too choked up to reply. He tilts his head up and stands up on his tiptoes, kissing Zacharias on the mouth. His tears are flowing freely now and he pulls away to wipe at them with his other hand. Zacharias pulls him in for another kiss, and another, reaching up to wipe away his tears himself.

 

They break apart after they’ve had their fill of each other. Both of their eyes are still a bit watery, but Alfonse manages to smile at their friends. His father is wiping away his own tears, and his mother is patting her emotional husband’s arm, smiling at them sweetly. 

 

Behind them, Sharena grins. She lightens the mood immediately by declaring proudly, “That was maliciously romantic.”

 

“Wha--?” Zacharias makes a noise, confused and a bit affronted. 

 

Sharena continues, “Think of everyone else! That was like, the most romantic thing in the world--a proposal on Winter Solstice, in front of everyone, after you’ve already gotten an arranged marriage, with your mother’s ring that you’ve never taken off--think of how high the bar is set now for a proper romantic proposal!”

 

That makes Alfonse chuckle. He still sounds a bit wet as he says, “That’s true. Did you think of all the poor other spouses-to-be who now have to think of more elaborate ways to propose?”

 

Zacharias presses a kiss to his hair. “Well, I don’t care about them anymore, I’m no longer one of them.”

 

“So cruel,” Fjorm sighs.

 

Kiran and Sharena pass back the candles. Alfonse takes a moment to admire Zacharias’ mother’s ring on his finger in the light of the fires. He thinks quietly to himself, hoping she can hear him wherever she is,  _ I swear I will love your son as much as you did. _ He pulls back on his glove, reluctantly covering up the ring then turns to his mother and father. “Let’s start the procession, then? After that terribly romantic distraction?”

 

Zacharias just kisses his hair again. His father nods. “Follow us!” he says happily, and takes his own candle and starts walking. His mother follows at his side, and they’re followed by Anna, Kiran, Fjorm, Veronica, and Sharena. The rest of the villagers start marching after them as well.

 

His father’s voice rises up, deep and sounding, soon joined by his mother’s clear voice. As one, the villagers start to join in, singing with all their hearts, lighting up the darkness with song and flame.

 

Alfonse grips Zacharias’s hand tight and sings along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this written for more than a month, waiting to finish all the other chapters--and waiting for December to roll around!--before posting it.


	10. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! With a short chapter to get back into the swing of things.

Supper is unusually quiet.

 

Alfonse is too nervous to try to break the silence. He knows that everyone is thinking about the same thing: 

 

The wedding tomorrow.

 

In his head, he rehearses the itinerary he's already memorized.  _ Brunch in my room, dress for the ceremony, afternoon spent in ceremony, feast, disburse presents, then party.  _

 

By this time tomorrow, he'll be a married man. It felt unreal. Over a year of preparations and planning, and it ended tomorrow.

 

But--he steals a glance at Zacharias, who is staring at the centerpiece intently--he’d be marrying someone he loves. He has no reason to be this nervous. 

 

He glances down at his plate. It still shines as if freshly-washed. He vaguely remembers putting food in his mouth, but he can't remember what it was or what it tasted like. He can feel that strange, too-familiar sensation of knowing he must eat more but not wanting to.

 

He sighs, breaking the silence (and making at least a few jump in their seats) and turns to his father. “May I be excused?” he asks. 

 

Father nods. “Feel free.” His eyes twinkle, but Alfonse ignores his amusement at his expense. He stands, gives a small bow, and flees the dining room.

 

As he walks down the hallway towards his room, he reaches out and runs his fingers along the cool stone walls. Through the windows, the setting sun bathes the hallways in a soft orange glow. The cloudless sky foretold a beautiful spring day for their wedding tomorrow. He stops at one window and leans out. In the courtyard, workers were sitting about taking a dinner break from preparing the courtyard. A legion of wooden benches were already set up facing the podium where the participants would stand. Long pole connected with streamers patiently waited to be decorated with fresh flowers. A twinge of excitement cuts through the nervousness like a hot poker in snow. When was the last time the courtyard was decked out like this? His mother and father’s wedding, just over twenty years ago?

 

He changes his trajectory, spinning around and heading for the nearest stairs instead. He emerges from a small side door and steps across the grass towards the stone courtyard. One of the workers glances up and sees him, springing to his feet into a bow. “Prince Alfonse!”

 

All the workers immediately turn to look at him. Alfonse shakes his head and says, “No--go back to what you were doing, no need to stand on ceremony. I just wanted to look around.”

 

The workers look uncertain, but settle back down to continue their dinner. Alfonse walks away from them. He runs a finger over the gold filigree decorating the arm of one of the benches. Looking down the row, some of the gold marks shine as new, some have scuff marks as if they had been shined to hell and back. He suddenly realizes that some of the benches date back to the previous wedding, pulled out of storage for this occasion. Some were recreations of the originals, likely replacing ones that rotted away during the in between years.

 

He wonders how if this is how his parents felt before their wedding. This miasma of anticipation and dread, making him feel both like he was flying and falling.

 

He wonders if Zacharias was feeling the same way.

 

Multicolored streamers are sitting in a crate nearby in white and gold and blue and purple and black and red, looking like maypole ropes. Some have already been strung between the tall white poles. Some connect shorter poles, gently outlining places where people could step and spaces they could not breach. 

 

He walks up in front of the podium and turns, examining the space. He could see the seating chart in his mind’s eye--commoners could sit in the back, palace workers and off-duty guards and soldiers in the next rows, and visiting Heroes and any nobles they needed to pay lip service to in the front. He hauls himself onto stage and stands, looking at the empty seats. In the ballroom, he knows, tables and chairs have been set for the dinner, newly-commissioned plates already set, waiting to be filled with delicacies. 

 

By this time tomorrow, the ceremony would be over. The hordes of Emblians and Askrians, many who have traveled from all over the continent and are currently squashed into all the inns within a five-mile radius, would be heading back to inns or to their homes to celebrate. Some lucky ones would be entering the castle for dinner and the reception. 

 

Tomorrow. The wedding was tomorrow.

 

He's repeated that to himself ten thousand times since morning. It still felt unreal. He hopes this distant feeling faded tomorrow. He would like to remember every detail.

 

After all, he was marrying Zacharias. The only person he had ever loved, the man that he killed a god for. The one who had broken his heart over and over yet mended it with only a few simple words. 

 

And he realizes despite the butterflies in his stomach regarding the wedding, he had no concern about what came after. They would be all right. He and Zacharias would truly have a good life together.

 

His lips turn up at the prospect. Their greatest obstacles had all been surmounted already. It doesn't matter what happens next. With Zacharias at his side, with the support of his family, with the friendship of the Heroes--

 

They would be all right.

 

Calmer now after thinking fondly of the future, he turns. Standing near the benches, where he ran his fingers over the gold, stood Sharena. She smiles at him as he hops down and walks over. “Nervous?”

 

“I was,” he admits readily. She nods.

 

“You've practiced so hard for the wedding. ‘Even if you don't trust your brain, trust your muscles.’”

 

He chuckles, chest uncurling. Sharena always knows what he's thinking and what to say. Doesn't always work, but it's always what he needs to hear. “I remember that lesson,” he reminisces. “You were so worried about your first tournament.”

 

Sharena grins at him. Her shoulders relax just a smidgen as her worries over him fade. “Zacharias dealt some good advice over the years.”

 

“Mmmhm.”

 

Her grin softens. “He’ll be a good advisor for a king.”

 

Alfonse only nods. “Or rather, he’ll be a good advisor for a  _ queen _ , when I instantly abdicate the throne and run off into the sunset to become a farmer.” He laughs as she squawks indignantly at the age-old joke. He dodges her jabbing elbow, chuckles petering out.

 

Sharena smiles at him. She reaches out her hand and says, “Let’s go back inside. There’s someone looking for you.”

 

“Is he?” Alfonse can imagine it right now--Zacharias was already tense from the wedding; he’s probably working himself into a frenzy looking for Alfonse. He feels a twinge of guilt for leaving the castle without telling anyone. “I hope he’s not too worked up.”

 

“He’s okay, I think Dad is speaking to him,” Sharena reassures him--or rather, tries to.

 

Instead, Alfonse goes pale. “Oh no! Who knows what Father is telling him!”

 

He breaks into a run. Behind him, he can hear Sharena burst into peals of laughter. He allows himself a small chuckle, and speeds off to find his fiance. Soon-to-be husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this means the next chapter will be the wedding! But this series is far from over--I have a lot of stories I ended up abandoning, and there's some NSFW bits, and the immediate future, and the far future....

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will update as we go. To be quite honest, this series will probably end up in smut; if/when that happens, I'll set it in a separate fic so the rating doesn't change.
> 
> If you'd like to speak to me about Alfonse/Zacharias find me on twitter @pyro_dragon! DM's or @'s, I don't mind.
> 
> IamLurking was amazing and made [FANART!](https://twitter.com/Suzuranao/status/941227439178506240)


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